


hypotheticals

by Philosoferre



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, robin is the only one with brain cells, steve's a dumbass but we love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: He winks again, that sly bastard, and blows Steve a kiss before he saunters off. Steve just watches him leave and blinks slowly. He has no idea what's going on in his life."Steve, my dude," Robin says, flashing him a disappointed look, "I'm a lesbian and even I know he's into you."-(Five times Steve thought Billy was just mocking him, and one time he finally understood.)





	hypotheticals

**Author's Note:**

> after season 3, all i can say is that these boys deserve the world. and let's be honest - flirty billy is best billy
> 
> title comes from the song by I The Victor. thanks to my sister and harmony for supporting this fic and helping me figure some stuff out! enjoy!!

**1.**

“Guess who’s here,” Robin says, nearly running into the wall as she rushes into the backroom. 

Steve doesn’t even need to guess, if her shit-eating grin and the way she’s perked up is anything to go by. He pushes past her to glance out the window and lets out a long, tired sigh, because  _ of course _ she’s talking about Billy.

Billy fucking Hargrove, with his stupid hair and ridiculously long eyelashes and- Steve clears his throat and ignores the burning blush on his cheeks. He does  _ not _ have a crush on Billy, of all people. He’s just tired of seeing that stupid face. Every day. Since he’s started his job at Scoops. Always sitting at the exact same table, ordering the exact same ice cream. Most days, he has a book with him, which is surprising on its own, but sometimes he loiters by the counter and annoys Steve like the shit he is.

“Ugh,” Steve groans. He really doesn’t want to deal with Billy today; he got four-ish hours of sleep and he promised Dustin they could finish building his Minecraft house after his shift, and he doesn’t want his good mood to be ruined by that asshat.

Robin nudges his shoulder and flashes him two thumbs-up. What a great friend. “You know, I think he’s here to see you.”

“Ruin my day, you mean,” Steve says, mentally preparing to deal with whatever shit Billy’s got planned.

Robin side-eyes him. “I meant what I said, dingus.”

Steve just lets out a quiet, half-hearted huff. He knows he’s not going to win this round; Robin’s been convinced Billy has a crush on him ever since he called him “pretty boy” on Snapchat. It’s just a dumb nickname - another way to make fun of him, really - and it’s never meant anything more. Besides, Billy would never like him like that. He’s not his type, and they’re not even friends, so. Even if Steve had a crush on him - theoretically - it’d be ridiculous to think he’d have a chance. 

And it’s not like he has his hopes up anyway. Billy doesn’t date; he has one-night stands, and he’s had a week-long fling or two, but he’s never been serious with anyone and he probably never will. And Steve doesn’t want to date him or anything, so it all works out. 

“You should probably go out,” Robin says, jerking her thumb in Billy’s general direction. “Before, you know, he thinks you’re ignoring him.”

Steve shakes his head before he leaves the backroom, ignoring Robin’s obnoxiously encouraging smile. He doesn’t need to be encouraged because it’s not like he’s about to confess his feelings or anything-

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, a light blush creeping on his cheeks and making his skin warm. Billy’s shamelessly raking his eyes over his body, grinning like he appreciates the view. He drums his fingers on the counter, and when he finally looks up at Steve’s face, there’s something positively sinful in his eyes. 

“Harrington,” Billy says, the corner of his lips tugged upwards in a smirk. “Looking good.”

Steve almost tells him to cut the bullshit, but he pushes the thought back and instead tries to smile. Billy is still a customer, after all, and he doesn’t want to get fired because  _ someone _ can’t go a single day without mocking him. 

“Hargrove,” Steve says, voice cool and thankfully not as shaky as he imagined. “You gonna get some ice cream or what?”

Billy raises an eyebrow and leans forward. If he wanted to, he’d be able to reach Steve behind the counter. He doesn’t try, though, and Steve doesn’t know if he feels disappointed or relieved. “Hey, let me look at you first. You’re really cute in your uniform, you know?”

Steve definitely does not blush. “It’s company policy,” he mutters. He’s pretty sure they’ve gone over this at least a million times.

Billy just winks at him. “You know my order. Strawberry and mint chocolate chip, waffle cone. Oreos, if you’re feeling nice.”

Steve scowls as he serves Billy’s ice cream, and he only relaxes a little when he goes back to his booth. Luckily, he brought a book today, which means less teasing he’ll have to put up with. And if Steve’s being completely honest, it gives him the opportunity to watch Billy. He looks and acts different when he’s here, and it’s nicer. Gentler. His edges soften whenever he’s at Scoops, like he doesn’t feel the need to put up his tough douchebag act. He eats his ice cream and reads his book and he looks comfortable, happy, peaceful. 

Happiness looks good on him, Steve thinks. 

“Wow, loverboy’s shameless,” Robin says as she joins Steve at the counter, twirling her scooper around.

Steve snorts. “Right? Who the fuck gets strawberry and mint chocolate chip together? And like, more than once? Who would voluntarily eat that?”

Robin blinks at him as if he’s misunderstood something important. “Steve,” she says. Slowly. Cautiously. “I’m not talking about his ice cream order.”

Steve shrugs. “Okay? I mean, yeah, he’s pretty shameless. Kind of acts like the world revolves around himself and no one else exists.”

“That’s not what I meant either,” Robin huffs, crossing her arms.

“Okay,” Steve says. He’s a little confused, but he’s not going to press it. They spend too much time talking about Billy anyway - which is weird, now that he thinks about it. He doesn’t even like him all that much.

Robin whacks his arm and rolls her eyes, but it’s fond, so whatever she’s annoyed about isn’t serious. She mostly leaves him alone for the next half hour, sending him small grins when she thinks he isn’t looking. Steve knows she has this weird idea that he’s into Billy or something, and he almost decides to bring it up, but it’s not really worth the trouble. She’d never believe him. Besides, she ends up serving most of the ice cream while he tries to inconspicuously watch Billy, so he can’t really complain. 

Steve’s making sundaes for a group of girls when Billy comes back to linger by the counter, one arm leaning casually against the glass like he's posing for a magazine or something. Steve wouldn't be surprised if he had a professional photographer following him around. 

"Do you want something?" Steve asks. He hands the girls their sundaes and tries not to glare at Billy. It's kind of hard. 

Billy grins at him. "I just came to say bye. I'll see you around, pretty boy."

He winks again, that sly bastard, and blows Steve a kiss before he saunters off. Steve just watches him leave and blinks slowly. He has no idea what's going on in his life. 

"Steve, my dude," Robin says, flashing him a disappointed look, "I'm a lesbian and even  _ I _ know he's into you."

Steve just flips her off. 

**2.**

  
  


Billy’s hair is dripping all over the tile floor of Scoops Ahoy. Water that smells strongly of chlorine runs down his half-unbuttoned shirt in dark rivulets, clings to the sides of his bright red swim shorts. He’s still wearing those goddamn aviators he always insists on, gold-framed and unbearably cliché. He must’ve just finished his shift.

Steve blinks, clears his throat, and wishes he could disappear right now. Billy’s very, very distracting like this. Sometimes, Steve thinks he doesn’t even try to be hot. He probably came out of the womb looking like a fucking Calvin Kline model. 

Steve whispers a quick prayer to whatever god is out there to make sure he doesn’t make a complete fool of himself, and then he takes one last breath before he has to face Billy. It’d be really nice if Robin was here to provide moral support, but she left half an hour ago to go on a date with some girl. Her timing is just perfect.

Billy smiles when he sees Steve, head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed like he’s stalking his prey. He probably is. “Ah, Harrington. Just the snack I was looking for.”

Steve chokes on his breath and sputters out, “What’s wrong with you?”

“How much time do you have?” Billy’s still smiling, and now he’s leaning against the counter, all suave and charming and casual. He must know it gets on Steve’s nerves. He’s such an asshole.

His shirt dips to reveal more of his golden skin, and Steve turns his gaze away before he’s caught staring. Not that he was staring in the first place. It’s just- it’s not his fault that Billy’s crowding his personal space, and he has a habit of leaving his shirt unbuttoned. He knows he’s attractive; he wants people to look at him like he’s the only thing in the room. He soaks that kind of attention right up. 

Moral of the story, Steve’s not immune to Billy Hargrove’s charms. He has eyes.

“God, stop getting all your pool grime everywhere,” Steve says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Aren’t you supposed to, like, shower before you leave?”

Billy shrugs. “I’m not done my shift yet, I’m just on break. But I’ve got eight minutes left, so you better hurry up, pretty boy.”

Steve grumbles and makes his usual order and tries to ignore the way Billy’s smiling at him. Instead, he focuses on the way he smells like sweat and chlorine and sunscreen, and how he’s impatiently drumming his fingers against the counter. 

And then he realizes. Steve frowns and asks, “Did you seriously spend your break coming all the way here for ice cream?”

Billy swipes his tongue over his lower lip and laughs. He leans across the counter, his face barely inches away, and fists a hand in Steve’s uniform to pull him closer. “Nah, I came here to see you,” he says, voice seductive and low and oh  _ god _ , it’s doing things to Steve. “But the ice cream’s a pretty good bonus.”

“Um,” Steve says. 

His eyes flicker down to Billy’s lips, and just as he starts to wonder what his kisses taste like, Billy releases him. Steve sheepishly hands him his ice cream.

“You, uh- you should probably get back,” Steve says, words tripping on his tongue. “To the pool.”

Billy’s grin grows unnervingly wide. “Right. I should. I’d rather stay here with you, though.”

It sounds so genuine, Steve wants to believe him. He really wants to, wants to give in to whatever he’s feeling, but he knows Billy’s just mocking him. Always has. Always will. He’s just a flirt by nature, so it’s not like he means anything he says. It’s an instinct; he sees anything that moves and he has to hit on it. Besides, it’s been a hobby of his to tease Steve since he moved to Hawkins. At this point, he and the other people Steve used to consider his friends could make it a sport. They all probably get together and laugh about how easy it is to make fun of him, how quickly he falls into their traps. 

Billy licks his ice cream and Steve definitely doesn’t look at his tongue. “I’ve gotta go,” he says, almost regretfully, almost believable, “but I’ll be back later, okay? When I’m actually done my shift.”

“What if I’m not working anymore?” Steve asks.

Billy jabs him in the chest. “Then just don’t go home. It’s not that hard.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, along the lines of  _ I don’t like being here as much as you think I do _ , or maybe  _ Jesus, Billy, I’m not going to do whatever you tell me to, stop being such a prick _ , but he can’t actually find the right words. Yeah, he’s pissed that Billy just assumes he’s willingly going to hang out here when he’s done his shift, but he also knows that’s exactly what he’ll end up doing. So he doesn’t bring it up.

“Stay cute, babe,” Billy says, and then he’s gone.

The smell of chlorine lingers, but it doesn’t really bother Steve anymore, because-

Babe.  _ Babe. _

He can’t stop thinking about the fact that Billy called him ‘babe’, so nonchalantly, so absentmindedly, like he’s been calling Steve that for his whole life. Like that word’s always on the tip of his tongue. Like he was born to say it, born to lean in and whisper it in Steve’s ear or paint it on his lips.

Well. Shit. 

Steve pulls his phone out to text Robin the second he doesn’t have a line to deal with. He doesn’t even know what he wants to tell her; he just knows he’s realized something, and he needs to talk to someone about it, and she’s really the only person he’d feel comfortable knowing about it.

_ robin?????  _

_ robin  _

_ shit _

_ rOBIN text me back i have news  _

_ like it’s important  _

_ ur gonna wanna know this _

_ i think i might have a crush on billy?? _

**3.**

Ever since his revelation, Steve’s been trying to avoid Billy as much as possible. He makes Robin deal with him most days, even when Billy specifically asks for him, because he knows he’d just end up being a massive idiot. And he’d rather not make it even more obvious that he has a crush. Billy’s smarter than he lets on, and he’d figure it out pretty quickly. And then there’s the fact that Billy’s probably not even into guys, and Steve’s not so sure if he wants Billy to know that about him. It’s not that he strikes Steve as homophobic, it’s just… one more thing he’ll get teased about. He can deal with most jokes, but he draws the line when it comes to those about his sexuality.

Steve’s sulking about his stupid crush and Billy’s stupid face in the backroom, like he usually does, when Robin comes in with no warning. She huffs at him and crosses her arms, like a disappointed mother. 

“He’s asking for you again,” she says. 

Steve buries his face in his hands and groans. “Well, I’m not going out there, so. Tell him to fuck off or whatever.”

“I did. Several times. He won’t budge.” Robin sits down across from Steve and reaches over to give him an encouraging pat. “You know he’s been really bitchy lately? Every little thing seems to get on his fucking nerve now. And I think it’s because you’re ignoring him.”

“I’m not ignoring him,” Steve says, a little too quickly.

Robin pouts. “You’re the world’s biggest dumbass, Steve. At least go out and say hi or something? ‘Cause he’s starting to piss me off, so.”

Steve’s never been able to say no to Robin, so he lets out a long, tired sigh and follows her back out. His stomach flips when he sees Billy, leaning against the counter like he has nothing better to do, blowing bubblegum. He thinks about turning back - Billy hasn’t seen him yet - and just running away from Scoops, maybe never coming in again, but then Robin takes his hand and squeezes it reassuringly, and that makes everything a little more bearable. That, and Billy’s ass in those jeans. That’s a good enough reason to stay.

“Hey,” Steve says. He sounds like he’s going through puberty again, all croaky and high-pitched.

Billy turns to face him alarmingly fast, eyes wide and a soft smile tugging at his lips. He’s wearing eyeliner, for fuck’s sake. “Jesus, Harrington, how long was I gonna have to wait here until you finally showed your ass? Why are you avoiding me?”

“Uh,” Steve stutters. 

Billy pops his bubblegum and playfully punches Steve’s shoulder. “Seriously, did I do something?”

As he talks, Steve can see the faintest glimmer of something metal in his mouth. In his tongue. In the short amount of time he’s been hiding like a coward, Billy got a tongue piercing. Well. Okay. That’s- Steve can deal with that. It isn’t… attractive or anything.

Steve clears his throat. “Is that new?”

Billy grins. “Oh, this?” He sticks his tongue out. “I’ve had it for about four weeks.”

Huh. Steve doesn’t remember seeing it before, and he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed a piece of metal in Billy’s mouth. It’s not that he stares, it’s just- he talks a lot. “Why haven’t I noticed it?”

Billy laughs, and he looks so pretty, Steve can’t even remember what he asked. “What, you look at my mouth often?”

Steve blushes and shakes his head. “No, I just- do you want ice cream?”

“Sure,” Billy says. He smells like bubblegum. Steve can’t stop glancing at his tongue piercing. “But you gotta come sit with me, babe. I’ve been lonely.”

And there it is again. Babe. Steve blinks once, twice. Gets Billy his usual and follows him to the booth he’s basically claimed. He wants to ask why Billy’s called him ‘babe’ twice now, but he’s afraid of the answer. He’s afraid that Billy will make fun of him for caring about it, or that he’ll say something shitty, like it’s just an involuntary sort of thing. Maybe he goes around calling people ‘babe’ for no reason. And Steve kind of wants it to be his alone, his special little part of Billy. He’s not hopeful, though. He’s just a bit of a dreamer.

They sit in comfortable silence. Billy eats his ice cream. Steve wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He runs through a thousand different options in his mind, but all of them make him sound pathetic and none of them are actually decent. 

“How are you so cute?” Billy asks, out of the blue, without a single warning.

Steve’s breath hitches. “Uh- genetics?”

He should ask why Billy keeps being such an ass to him, why he’s so adamant about playing with his feelings, but then Billy laughs, and all Steve can think is that he wants to hear it again. He couldn’t hold anything against him even if he tried.

“Oh, so you’re adorable  _ and _ funny,” Billy says. “You’re almost perfect. Are you smart too?”

Steve huffs and crosses his arms. He knows he’s being defensive, but it’s for a good reason. Now Billy’s just unabashedly teasing him. “Come on. You know I’m not as smart as you, Hargrove. No need to be a dick about it.”

Billy’s smile falters for a split second. Steve swears he’s blushing, but before he can confirm anything, Billy ducks his head and asks, his voice softer than usual, “You think I’m smart?”

“I mean. Yeah.” Steve waves his hand around vaguely. “You’re always reading and shit. That’s what smart people do, or so I’ve been told. And anyway, I know what your grades are like, I’ve had classes with you. So.”

Billy turns to face him again, an eyebrow raised, smiling like the smug asshole he is. He drapes one arm over the booth, dangerously close to Steve’s shoulder. “Aw, Harrington, you’re so sweet. But I don’t read because I’m smart or- I just like it. I like books, you know?” 

Steve doesn’t know, actually, because he’s not a big fan of reading. He used to hate English class. 

“You don’t… read?” Billy asks, frowning. Steve’s dislike must’ve been obvious on his face. 

Steve shrugs. “I just haven’t found a lot of books I like.”

“Fair enough,” Billy says. Steve thinks he might drop the conversation; he continues eating his ice cream, and then he abruptly looks up again and tilts his head. “Do you have any favourites?”

It takes Steve a second to realize what he’s talking about. Billy’s watching him expectantly, and it’s startling; Steve still isn’t used to Billy looking at him like he fucking hung the moon or something. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it,” Steve says. He pauses, waits for Billy to say something snarky. He doesn’t. “But if I had to choose… probably  _ Tom Sawyer _ . I read it a while ago and it was good.”

Billy’s eyes seem to light up, like Steve said the smartest thing he’s ever heard. It makes him warm, even though he’s pretty sure Billy’s blatant affection is just an act. A bet, maybe. Twenty bucks if he gets Steve to fall in love with him like most girls in Hawkins. It makes something curl unpleasantly in his stomach.

“Well, if it gets such a glowing recommendation from King Steve,” Billy drawls, trailing his fingers along the edge of Steve’s sleeve, “I guess I’ll have to read it.”

Steve kind of wants to ask Billy not to, because  _ Tom Sawyer _ is the only book he’s actually liked in god-knows-how-long and he doesn’t want it to be ruined by his snarky criticisms. He almost mentions it, but part of him thinks Billy might actually be making an attempt at befriending him and being decent, so he pushes the thought away. 

“What’s your favourite book?” Steve asks, surprising himself.

Billy looks a little startled and unsure, like he wasn’t expecting Steve to care about what he reads. It’s over in a quick second, and he grins again, sharp and unbearably attractive. “ _ Circe _ , probably.  _ Dorian Gray _ is a close second though.”

Steve remembers hearing about  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ . Nancy probably told him about it, back when they dated. She always tried to get him interested in old books, said there’s no way he can just not read Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen and Mary Shelley. The second book, though, he’s never heard of.

“ _ Circe _ ?” He echoes.

Billy smiles, pokes Steve’s arm. “Madeline Miller. You should read it. You can borrow my copy, if you want?”

“Sure,” Steve says, without thinking about it. He doesn’t have to pause, doesn’t have to think about his answer. If Billy’s smile is anything to go by, he made the right choice.

“I’ll bring it this week,” Billy says, trying to not sound so obviously excited. He’s basically bouncing in his seat. Steve wonders, briefly, how many people he can actually talk to about all the books he likes. “In the meantime-” he pauses, leans in and softly kisses Steve’s cheek, “-I’ll see you around, pretty boy.”

Steve watches him leave, and once he’s sure he’s alone, he reaches up and ghosts his fingers over the skin Billy’s lips had just touched. His kiss was gentle, his breath smelled faintly of cigarettes. If Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine it again. 

Steve sighs, runs a hand over his face, and whispers, “What the fuck?”

  
  


The next day, when Steve comes to Scoops for his shift, he’s surprised to find Billy already at his booth. Reading  _ Tom Sawyer _ . That little shit.

“Hey,” Steve says, waving and smiling awkwardly. 

Billy gestures for him to come over. He holds the book up, his smile almost hesitant, like he doesn’t know if Steve saw it. “Hey, babe. You know how long I’ve been here, waiting for you to come in? I brought your book- well, I stole it from Max, but she won’t care.”

“Uh,” Steve says. He licks his lips, attempts to nod. “O-okay.”

Billy just huffs. “It’s good, if you’re wondering. I like Tom, he’s chaotic. Oh, and Huck. He radiates dumbass energy, like you.”

He says it so cheerfully that Steve can’t even consider it an insult. At this point, he’s starting to question whether anything Billy’s been saying lately was meant to be insulting. Robin’s pretty set on the idea that it’s all genuine and shit, and she’s the one with brain cells anyway. Steve wants to believe her.

“Thanks?” He says, a little confused but mostly touched. It’s actually kind of endearing.

Billy grins at him, so casually seductive it hurts. “Just the truth, pretty boy. You here to work, or…?”

Steve glances down at the uniform he’s wearing. He used to not really care about it, but he feels self-conscious around Billy. He feels a little ridiculous, serving ice cream in a fucking sailor outfit. How could he not, when Billy comes in every day with perfectly styled hair and eyeliner and glowing, golden skin? Anyone would feel inadequate next to him. 

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says. “Um. So I should… I should probably-”

He turns to leave, but Billy catches his wrist at the last second. His hand is warm and surprisingly soft; his grip is gentle. Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. His heart is hammering erratically, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

“Come back when you’re on break, yeah?” Billy says, runs his fingers lightly over Steve’s skin. 

Steve swallows. His mouth feels dry. “Okay.”

Billy winks at him, and it happens so often now that Steve doesn’t even question it. He goes to the backroom in a daze, not really paying attention to his surroundings. He’s pretty sure he ran into three tables on the way there, and maybe, like, one kid. Robin raises an eyebrow when she sees him and smirks. 

“You look lovesick,” she says.

Steve frowns. “What? No. Jesus, Robin, give me a break.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say, loverboy. I’m pretty sure it’s called denial, though. Just so you know. Maybe you should talk to Billy about that. He’s minoring in psych, right?”

“God,” Steve mutters. “I’m not gonna talk to Billy about being in denial, because I’m  _ not _ , and I’m not, like, in love with him or anything either.”

Robin just whacks him on the head.

**4.**

  
  


Mike frowns, clearly disgusted, as Steve sneezes and wipes the snot on his pants. “Shouldn’t you not do that?” He asks.

Steve sniffles. “It’s fine, I’ll wash my hands, chill. Hey, why are you alone here? Aren’t you, like, supposed to have adult supervision?”

Mike sneers at him, and it’s so ridiculous that Steve can’t take him seriously. He has a cold and he wants to mess with the kid, sue him. 

“I’m fourteen,” Mike says, “so shut the fuck up.”

Steve washes his hands as promised before he takes his order, and he doesn’t talk to Mike the whole time. Even when he dated Nancy, he never really took a liking to her brother. Always rubbed him the wrong way, seemed a little stuck-up and obnoxious. He’s willing to give Mike a chance though; he used to have the same opinion about Billy Hargrove, and now. Well. He doesn’t need to think about that.

He knows he’s sick - he’s been like that for a week, and it’s fucking  _ July _ \- but it’s not serious to stay home, so here he is. Serving ice cream whenever he’s not in the middle of a sneezing fit. Robin keeps trying to force him to take breaks, maybe have a cough lozenge or two, and every time he gets a hot flash, she makes him sit in the backroom by the freezer. It’s not an ideal way to spend his day, but it beats laying in bed and doing nothing. Besides, it’s just a cold. He can deal with it just fine. 

Billy comes in a little later than usual, flashing Steve his signature charming smile. His shirt’s unbuttoned almost to his navel - which, really, isn’t that public indecency or something? - and he’s glistening with sweat, or pool water, or maybe that’s just how he always is. Glowing and shit. God, Steve’s way too sick to handle Billy right now. 

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy says, sauntering up to the counter like a goddamn model.

Steve opens his mouth to reply but lets out a loud, high-pitched sneeze instead. He feels like shit. 

“You’re sick,” Billy says, sounding a little surprised. 

Steve shrugs half-heartedly and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “Yup.”

Billy looks at him for a solid minute, unblinking, unnervingly focused. He opens his mouth a little - Steve can see the glint of his piercing - and then promptly closes it and walks away. Steve blinks and coughs feebly. 

“Um. Okay,” Robin says, from where she’s suddenly materialized next to Steve. “That was harsh. What a dick.”

Steve can’t really disagree. “I guess.”

Robin pats his shoulder and shakes her head. “What’d I tell you, Steve? The guy’s an asshole.”

Steve sighs, ignoring the disappointment that weighs heavy on his chest, and gets back to work. By the time he can actually take his break, he’s almost forgotten the whole incident with Billy, and he’s feeling okay enough to accept Robin’s offer to go see a movie later. He sits in the backroom and scrolls through Instagram for something interesting; inevitably, he ends up on Billy’s account. Thousands of followers. Mostly shirtless selfies, though he does take the occasionally artsy photo of like, the beach or something. Steve likes to think he doesn’t spend a lot of time scrolling through his page, but he’s beyond the point of being able to deny it.

“Hey,” Robin says, opening the door without any warning, so sudden it makes Steve jump a little. “Your boyfriend’s back.” She grins slyly. “And he has something for you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves his phone in his pocket before she can see what he was looking at. “Billy’s not my boyfriend.”

Robin raises an eyebrow and laughs. “How did you know I was talking about Billy?”

Steve blushes, his cheeks burning. He shoves past her without another word, mostly because he has nothing to say that. He finds Billy standing by the counter, still as rudely hot as before, holding a cup in his hands. He’s tapping his fingers on it erratically, almost like he’s anxious. What the fuck does he have to be nervous about?

“Uh,” Steve says, clearing his throat, “Robin said you have something for me?”

Billy smiles at him and holds the cup out. “Oh, yeah. I, um, I got you some tea?” He glances around, and finally his eyes settle on Steve. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just- it’s honey lemon. Um. I hope that’s okay?”

Steve takes the tea, ignores the warmth spreading through his body as their fingers brush. “Yeah, that’s- it’s good. Thanks. You really didn’t-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy says, waving his hand dismissively. He ducks his head; his golden skin is tinted with a delicate blush. “I just, you know. I don’t want your germs all over my ice cream, so.”

Steve doesn’t ask how drinking tea is supposed to help with that. He’s pretty sure it’s just a bad excuse to be nice. Billy has a reputation to uphold, he can’t be seen doing nice shit for Steve Harrington. And Steve gets it, he really does. He used to be the same way, before Nancy made him realize he was kind of a douchebag. 

“And I care about you,” Billy continues, his voice quieter and softer. Before Steve can ask what he means by that, Billy puts up his tough boy act again and claps him on the back. “So drink up, babe. We gotta keep you looking pretty.”

“Why do you insist on making fun of me all the time?” Steve asks. He doesn’t even know why he thought that; Billy was obviously trying to be nice to him, for real, and he just blew it. 

He expects Billy to be pissed, maybe even mad, but he doesn’t. He just laughs. “I’m not making fun of you, Harrington.”

“Sure,” Steve huffs, wipes his nose with his hand again. 

Billy shrugs, taps his fingers absentmindedly on the counter. “I promise, pretty boy.” He leans forward, tilts his head, runs his tongue over his lips. Steve tries not to stare, but it’s really, really hard. “Honest, I just want you to get better, sweetheart.”

Billy winks at him before heading off to Max, who’s just suddenly appeared at a booth with Lucas. Max looks a little annoyed, but she follows him out anyway. 

“Huh,” Steve says, eyes narrowed. He hadn’t even noticed they were here.

If Robin was with him, she’d say it’s because he was too busy staring at Billy’s ass, which isn’t necessarily wrong. Sometimes, Steve thinks he wears those sinfully tight jeans to annoy him on purpose; he probably buys clothes specifically to be a tease. Like, he walks into H&M or whatever and asks,  _ do you guys have anything that’ll make me look fuckable, but like unavailable? _

The minute Billy’s disappeared from his line of sight, he remembers that he had called him sweetheart.  _ I just want you to get better, sweetheart. _ Steve blushes, smiles to himself, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He was never one for pet names, but for some reason, he likes the way Billy says it. He likes the way the word drips from his lips. There are certain words, Steve thinks, that were made to be said by certain people. 

_ Sweetheart _ was made to be said by Billy Hargrove, and no one else does it justice. No one else says it right. 

  
  


**5.**

“I woke up late, alright,” Steve grumbles, flipping Robin off the minute he notices she’s looking at his hair. He barely got any sleep, and his alarm didn’t go off, sue him. 

Robin covers her mouth and holds back a laugh. “Look, dude, I’m not- your hair, it’s just… it’s not  _ you _ .”

Steve makes a face. “If you think I look bad, just spit it out.”

“I don’t think that,” Robin says. She pats the top of his head and smiles brightly. “But you do look a little stupid. I mean, where’s the volume?”

“I woke up late,” Steve whines.

Robin tells him he looks better with the Scoops cap on, which is unfortunate to hear because it usually hides his best feature, but he’ll manage. Thankfully, no one seems to notice the change in his hair, even though Steve is very aware it probably looks deflated and ridiculous. At least Robin’s nice enough to not make too many dumb jokes about it. 

Steve almost forgets about his hair problem until Billy comes in, as suave and pretty as he always is. His lazy smile slowly melts into a frown when he sees Steve, which doesn’t help his self-consciousness at all. 

“What happened to your hair?” Billy asks, sounding like he’s been personally offended. He reaches over the counter and cards his fingers through Steve’s hair. 

Steve wants to disappear. “You got a problem, Hargrove?”

Billy’s smile returns, even more predatory than it was before. His tongue piercing clicks against his teeth. “No, not at all. I like it, actually. Less… intimidating.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, and he can’t help but smile too. For a second, he was convinced Billy would insult him or something, maybe crack a joke; he’s pleasantly surprised that he likes it. He sounds genuine. Steve might actually consider changing his style a bit.

“You actually like it?” Steve asks, bites his lip. “You think I look good like this?”

Billy puts a soft hand on his cheek, brushes his thumb lightly over his skin. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s affection in his smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. “You always look good.”

Steve’s heart is pounding. He leans in to Billy’s touch, lets his eyes close and his lips fall open. Billy doesn’t kiss him, though. He smiles, and then he takes his hand away and Steve’s left feeling cold. Figures. He gets his hopes up one time, falls into that dangerous trap of actually believing Billy likes him, and now he has to face the unbearable truth: Billy’s just teasing him, like he does with everyone else. 

“Something wrong, babe?” Billy asks. God, he’s so observant. Always has been. 

Steve shakes his head and manages to half-heartedly stammer out, “No, I’m good. Nothing’s wrong.”

Billy looks at him curiously, eyes hooded and calculating, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Steve tries to figure out what he’s thinking, but before he can, Billy pokes his arm and laughs. 

“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” he says. And then, almost as an afterthought, he adds: “I’ll have my usual.”

He winks, pops the bubblegum Steve hadn’t even noticed he was chewing, and heads back to his table. Like he expects Steve’s going to bring the ice cream to him, like this is a restaurant and not fucking Scoops Ahoy. Steve flips him off the second he knows Billy can’t actually see him. Maybe Robin was right; maybe he  _ is _ an asshole. Maybe he’s genetically incapable of not being a dick. Because, really, now that Steve thinks about it, everything he’s ever said, every compliment, was just him being an ass. He probably gets off on teasing people, making them think he actually likes them just to drop them when he gets bored. 

“You look pissed,” Robin says, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Did Billy say something?”

Steve sighs. “No. I mean- it wasn’t anything bad, I just. Shit. I actually thought he liked me, you know? But he’s just a dick.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t you, like… have a crush on him or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbles. He’s not proud of it. 

“Well, why do you, like, hate him all of a sudden?” Robin pats his cheek and smiles, but it doesn’t come off as friendly as she probably hoped. “From what I got, he was trying to be nice.”

Steve waves his hand around vaguely and accidentally gets some strawberry ice cream in the butterscotch tub. Oh well. It doesn’t matter. 

“Nice?” Steve scoffs. He can’t believe how hopeful he’s been. “Billy’s never been nice, Robin.”

Robin shrugs. “Maybe. But I think he was making an effort.”

She grins, like she knows something Steve doesn’t. He kind of wants to ask if it’s about Billy, if he told her something, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s probably not his business, anyway. 

“Steve,” Robin says suddenly, eyes wide. “Can I tell you something?”

Steve doesn’t care too much, but Robin’s got this frantic look in her eyes, so he’ll oblige. “Sure.”

She leans in close, almost conspiratorially, and whispers, “Billy confirmed he likes you. Told me himself. You weren’t here yet, and he- he  _ really _ likes you, Steve. But don’t mention it to him or anything, okay? I’m not supposed to tell you.”

Steve just groans. That totally sounds believable. Robin  _ definitely _ didn’t make that up on the spot to cheer him up. He gets it; she’s trying to be a good friend. And, okay, maybe part of what she said is true, maybe Billy does actually like him. As a friend. But there’s no way he has…  _ feelings _ for Steve. That’s just not possible. And even if he did, theoretically, he’d never tell Robin. They’re not friends. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen them talk.

“Thanks for trying to help,” Steve says. Sue him if he sounds sad. 

He tries to ignore his pounding heart, his sweaty palms, the way he feels weak and nervous when he walks over to Billy’s table, but the lazy ray-of-sunshine smile Billy sends his way doesn’t help at all. Steve takes a shaky breath and hands him the ice cream. 

If Billy’s hands linger against Steve’s for more time than necessary, neither of them mention it. 

“Thanks, babe,” Billy says, sultry and low. Licks his ice cream like he has an oral fixation, or like he’s trying to get Steve to look at his tongue. Which. Probably not a good idea.

“Um,” Steve says. His throat feels dry. “No problem.”

Billy watches him with his bedroom eyes, so disconcertingly blue that the world doesn’t seem to exist beyond them. Steve wishes he could look away. It’s been getting increasingly difficult to do that. 

Steve clears his throat. “Um. I should-”

“If I asked you to wear your stupid sailor costume when you’re not working,” Billy interrupts, each word slow and measured, “would you?”

Steve blinks, eyes wide, a blush spreading on his cheeks. He has this image in his head now, of Billy slamming him against the wall and carelessly shoving the shorts of his uniform down to his ankles, of being fucked hard while he wears his cap, of Billy fisting a hand in his shirt and-

“Why?” Steve asks, trying to keep his cool. “You got a fetish or something?”

Billy’s grin is dangerously seductive. He licks his lips and says, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Not really,” Steve huffs, shaking his head to get his point across. There is no way he’s going to get his hopes up again, especially not over some dumb fucking joke about his uniform. 

Billy shrugs. He’s still grinning, still looking at Steve likes he’s trying to mentally undress him. Not that Steve would be opposed to that. “Your loss, sweetheart. You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

Steve just flips him off and hurries back to the safety of the counter before he can say something stupid. If the look on Billy’s face is anything to go by, Steve didn’t even have to say anything. Billy already knows what his answer is.

**+1.**

Billy hasn’t teased Steve for a solid week. And the problem is, he’s starting to miss it. Working at Scoops is a little less fun, a little more boring, without Billy’s fuckboy smile and wandering hands and bedroom eyes. Steve’s starting to miss the pet names too- Billy’s been calling him Harrington instead, and it used to get on his nerves, but now it just makes him sad. 

Steve doesn’t remember saying or doing anything that might’ve pushed him away, is the thing. He thought, at first, that maybe he’d somehow led Billy to believe he wasn’t interested in him. It’s been eight days, though, and that option’s starting to seem a little less plausible. It’s more likely that Billy just grew tired of teasing him. That making fun of Steve got boring, predictable, repetitive. 

“God, stop sulking,” Robin says, whacking Steve with her cap. She hasn’t been much of a help lately; she keeps giving him funny looks that mean absolutely nothing. 

Steve rolls his eyes. He can’t help but sneak a glance at Billy, who’s been unusually quiet for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t even bring a book today. He’s just… eating his ice cream and not saying anything, which is really weird. 

“I’m not sulking,” Steve mutters, but he doesn’t even believe himself. “He’s just pissing me off, is all.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “By doing nothing?” She rubs a hand across her face and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, you’re so stupid. Why don’t you go, like, talk to him or something? Sort your shit out, man.”

Steve waves his hand around vaguely. “He won’t wanna talk to me, Robin. I’m probably not an interesting enough target anymore.”

Robin lets out a groan and says, “I don’t think there are enough brain cells in the world to help you.”

  
  


When Billy comes in at his usual time, on a warm Friday afternoon, the first thing Steve notices is that he’s not wearing eyeliner. He doesn’t know what to make of that, because he’s pretty sure Billy always wears some sort of makeup. Eyeliner, most days, but Steve’s seen him with shimmery lip gloss a few times. He’s the kind of person who puts effort into every outfit, takes care to look his best, prides himself in the way he looks. 

Steve’s not used to seeing him looking so not glammed up. His shirt is barely even open, which is weird on its own, and for once, his jeans aren’t artfully ripped or washed-out. He’s wearing a pair of Converse that were probably once white; Steve didn’t think he owned anything except his superstars. 

“Hey,” Steve says, waving him over. “Are you okay? You’ve been… kinda weird, lately?”

Billy doesn’t even smile at him. He just huffs and asks, oddly defensive, “What, you care about me now?”

“No,” Steve says. And then mentally slaps himself because that’s not what he meant. At all. “I mean, yeah, I- I do, I just. I’m just wondering.”

Billy shrugs. “Well, don’t, like, lose sleep over it, Harrington. I’m on the way to the gym. People don’t usually try and look good for that.”

That’s a shit excuse. Steve can see right through his lie, and he’s pretty sure Billy knows. Why he even feels the need to lie, Steve has no idea. Is he embarrassed that he doesn’t look like an Instagram influencer, or something? That wouldn’t be surprising, to be honest. But Steve has a feeling it’s not that. 

“And you’re stopping for ice cream?” Steve asks, frowning. 

Billy scratches the back of his neck and shrugs again. “I need calories to burn.”

“Right,” Steve drawls. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his disbelief. 

The thing is, once Billy’s finished his ice cream, he doesn’t leave. He just keeps sitting at his table, staring down at his hands, picking at loose threads in his jeans. Every few minutes, Steve catches him looking his way, but he quickly averts his gaze. Steve doesn’t know what to make of it. He kind of thinks he should say something, maybe ask Billy what’s really going on, but all of a sudden he’s incapable of mustering up the courage. He has no idea what he’d say, anyway. Billy obviously doesn’t want to talk to him. 

“He seems sad,” Steve says, when Robin asks him why he’s looking in Billy’s general direction with, quote unquote, “sad puppy eyes”. He lets out a quiet sigh. “He hasn’t made fun of me in, like, a week, and. I don’t know. Maybe something happened?”

Robin huffs and rolls her eyes. She’s been doing that a lot lately. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks. 

Robin puts her hands on his shoulders and shakes him. “Look, Steve, why would he keep flirting with you if you’re acting like you’re not into him? He probably just realized it isn’t worth his time to chase you around until you come to your fucking senses. God, you’re  _ such _ a dumbass.”

Steve blinks. Once. Twice. Lets the realization sink in, processes everything Robin said. So she wasn’t kidding, then. When she told him Billy likes him- she was actually serious. Well. Okay. That’s… Steve doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

“Shit,” Steve says. He feels like he got kicked in the gut. 

Robin shakes him again. “Yeah, shit. Do you know how long I had to watch you be an idiot? He’s been trying so hard to show you he, like, wants to fuck you or whatever. I swear, I was so close to just shoving you guys in a closet and locking the door until you sorted your shit out.” She whacks him on the back of the head, but she’s smiling, so she isn’t really mad. “Do you know how many times I had to listen to him talk about you? Like, he really likes you, dingus. He makes fucking  _ heart eyes _ whenever he sees you. It’s disgusting, how much he likes you.”

Steve frowns. “I thought you were my wingwoman?”

“I am,” Robin says, letting out a frustrated huff. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t get annoyed by Billy’s pining.”

Steve’s heart is hammering. A million different thoughts are racing in his mind, and he can’t focus on any of them. All he can think about is how much he really, really wants to kiss Billy. “So what should I do?”

“Fuck him, obviously,” Robin says. 

Steve chokes on his own spit. 

Robin blinks at him. “Oh, you meant  _ now _ ? You could still have sex, nothing’s stopping you.” She laughs at Steve, who just wrinkles his nose, because he’d rather not talk about that with her. “Okay, okay, maybe you should start with, I don’t know, confessing your feelings? That’s what normal people do when they have a crush.”

Steve nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay. That’s probably a good idea.”

Robin suddenly looks over Steve’s shoulder, and then she shoves him forward without a warning. “Go get him, tiger.”

Billy’s getting up, smoothing down the wrinkles on his jeans, and shit, he’s about to leave. Steve’s heart is hammering, he feels like he’s about to throw up, and he doesn’t even know if he’s physically capable of admitting his crush, but he knows he has to do it today. Right now. Otherwise, he’ll regret it, and he might not get another chance, and Billy might stop coming to Scoops, and-

“Hey, Hargrove!” Robin screeches. 

Billy’s head snaps up. He looks at her, a little confused, but he walks over to the counter anyway. Steve takes a deep breath, tries to calm his nerves. 

“Yeah?” Billy asks, unimpressed. 

“Stevehassomethinghewantstotellyou,” Robin says, her words slurring together from the fast-paced excitement in her voice. 

She gives Steve a thumbs-up and quickly disappears into the backroom before he can even register what’s going on. And then he’s left alone with Billy, who doesn’t look like he cares about what Steve has to say. 

Steve opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. Where to start. He can’t find the right words. The confession he had in the back of his mind dies on his tongue, and all that’s left is just this warm, fuzzy feeling, slowly spreading through his body, consuming every thought. 

“Well?” Billy asks, his voice dripping with impatience. 

And then it hits him: maybe Steve doesn’t have to say anything at all. Without thinking, he leans across the counter, tilts his head, and slots their lips together. It’s a terrible excuse for a kiss; his hand is awkwardly hovering above Billy’s cheek, and they’re both at a weird angle, but it’s enough. He hopes it gets his message across. 

Billy doesn’t move for a second, but then he relaxes and kisses Steve back, his hand tentatively resting on Steve’s waist. His lips are soft and pliant, opening up under Steve’s prying tongue with a sigh. He tastes like strawberry ice cream and cigarettes. His piercing brushes against Steve’s lip, sends shivers down his spine. God, Steve wants to drink him in, wants to kiss and kiss and kiss until his lips are raw and red. 

Billy pulls back just enough so that the tips of their noses touch. His breaths are short and laboured. “Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse and low. “Didn’t think you liked me, Harrington.”

Steve laughs and ghosts his thumb across Billy’s cheek. He’s beautiful like this, flushed and debauched. “I didn’t know  _ you  _ liked  _ me _ . But Robin- she knows more shit than I do, so.” Steve pauses to take a breath, closes his eyes. “I, uh, I didn’t know what to say, so- I, um. You know.”

Billy huffs, runs his hand over Steve’s side and grins. “Who said I wanted to kiss you?”

“Robin,” Steve says, and he’s laughing again, because he knows, for once, that Billy’s actually teasing him. “And shut up.”

Billy licks his lips. “Only if you make me.”

Steve doesn’t get a chance to do that, though, because the minute he stops talking, Billy leans in and kisses him, his teeth grazing Steve’s lower lip, his tongue restless, and  _ god _ , he’s really fucking talented. His hands burn through Steve’s shirt and eventually come to rest on his ass, and Steve doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care that there are people around them, doesn’t care that Robin’s probably grinning like a fool, doesn’t care that they’re in fucking Scoops Ahoy. 

He can’t find it in himself to care, because Billy Hargrove is kissing him like it’s what he was made for, what he was born to do. And Steve thinks he could get used to this. 

**Author's Note:**

> you would not believe the amount of research i had to do about tongue piercings. i'm on [ tumblr](https://mattmuwudock.tumblr.com) \- come talk to me about harringrove! comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


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